Civil twilight and Drunken Liturgies

Through out the last month I’ve developed neat little habit of going out with my friends and getting roaring drunk. “I liked to get fucked up, when I’m krunked up” can be heard echoing across Elgin as we wallow in a pool of our own crapulence. Dance bars, pool bars, cougar bars, it doesn’t really matter what the venue has to offer; we don’t discriminate. We’re like the United Nations of boozehounds. Every establishment is equal in our eyes (except Qatar). Of course in this rum-fueled utopia everything is somehow magically enhanced. Its like going from your grand parents crummy black and white TV to a 60-inch flat screen. HD Muthafucka!!! Stories get better, dancing is easier, and yes you guessed it, girls get way better looking (don’t act insulted, it goes both ways and you know it). I’m way funnier; and even if I’m not, I think I am and that’s what really matters.

Anybody who’s ever been to a high school dance or drank 40’s in a park can tell you, it seems that the more booze you drink, the more fun you have. How many times have you heard someone say, “oh it was a great party, I was sooooo wasted!” For that matter, how many times have you heard me say that? But was the party itself even that great, or did you just have a fantastic buzz on? I may have a shit time on a dry date but give me a jack and coke and even your lil’bros piano rehearsal can become entertaining. Jagger Bombs? Bombs away! Even après-bar activities have become more enjoyable. If you think Harry Potter is a good read when you’re sober, you should try it when you’re soused at 3 in the morning; I’ve never loathed Snape so much! Moreover, next time you stumble your way to bed, try putting on the ol’ head phones for a song or two. Sure, I may only be conscious for the first 30 seconds of 12:51, but for those 30 seconds The Strokes have never sounded so good.

Now some of you my say that I sound like a grade 9 discovering his parents liquor cabinet for the first time. Quite the contrary; I’m actually re-discovering my fondness for alcohol. For the last year I was dating a girl who had zero interest in drinking. She didn’t like it or understand it, and had little desire to do so. To her Captain Morgan was just some jack-ass who somehow had the power to bring grown men to their knees, and turn women into sex crazed savages. So I’m like “How can you not like that?” Of course being the good boyfriend I sided with her, and spent the better part of the year abstaining from Gold Schlager’s fiery touch. I chose booty over the bottle; forget tapping the keg, I’ll just tap that ass. Instead of boozing and brawling with the girl friend, I’d just stay sober and enjoy my just-desserts. However, this conversely presents a fun little scenario to consider (and I don’t think I’m alone on this one). Majority of my hook-ups are direct result of an alcohol-induced atmosphere; I get it on because I’ve been getting my drink on. An idle conversation usually provides little reason to fornicate, but throw in some Schnapps and some Nelly and suddenly we’re taking off all our clothes! So in theory, instead of a year of sobriety and guaranteed sex I could have drank, kept up my party time antics, and as a result could have till been banging butts on the dance floor (too crude?).

Regardless, this is all just hypothetical. However it does brings us to the point of whether or not I need to drink to have fun. Of course not; I can have fun doing just about anything. Scrabble, Twister, long walks on the beach, I can do all these things with a smile on my face. But if I drink while doing these things I’ll have an even better time. So lets raise a glass and toast to events we probably won’t even remember. For as long we’re drinking, our stories will be entertaining if nothing else.